


My Favorite Addiction

by DoYourResearch



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoYourResearch/pseuds/DoYourResearch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg has had a few addictions in his life but it takes him a while to discover the best addictions are sometimes the ones that are not so easily obtained. He needs to clean up his act and Sherlock is there to return the favor with the help of their friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Favorite Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a writing spree these past few days. Don't know why but Greg/Molly is stuck in my head!!

It was only supposed to be for a night. Greg had just been served the divorce papers out of the blue. He signed them and sent them off without even reading them. He could let her have everything, even his kids. There was no way he would ever win a custody battle with the work hours he kept. He wasn't going to get his hopes up.

 

"Another round, mate?" The bartender asked. His face hung so low he felt like he could sink to the bottle of his empty beer. He nodded and slid the cup forward, feeling the smooth glass pass over his fingers as it was pulled away and shortly replaced, feeling cold and already shedding droplets of condensation.

 

This would be the start of the rest of his life, he thought. No more cheating wife, no more trying to fix something that wasn't just bloody broken but fucking destroyed. He should be grateful and happy to be released from the marriage he had entered in when he was only twenty and hardly knew better. He had thought they were in love and that coupled with a pregnancy that never came to fruition had him running down the alter to save their reputations. Before they could discover their incompatibility, they already had two children, a home, and two cars. But she wanted more and Greg didn't know how much more he could give.

 

Greg stumbled home that night and passed out more than slept. He woke up feeling groggy and unsure of reality but the one thing he was positive about was that he needed a drink and there was a bottle of vodka in the freezer begging to make acquaintances with his orange juice.

\-----------------

"You look like shit," Sally Donovan said bluntly but with a hint of concern as her supervisor stared blankly out of his office window from his desk. His coffee nearly tipping out of his hand. He righted himself with the distraction and cleared his throat, "Sorry, just trying to think."

 

Sally nodded suspiciously, fully aware of his divorce but wondering now long he could let himself be miserable for. They had work to do and he had been relying on Sherlock to the point of pure neglect of his own work. The cases were being solved but if Greg's superiors found out how often the consulting detective was really on the case, he'd be sacked in a heartbeat.

 

With a sigh, Sally departed from his office, slowly closing the door behind her. Anderson was walking past her and frowned when he saw her expression, "He's still at it?"

 

Sally nodded and the two walked away without another word.  
\----------------  
"I didn't take you for a whiskey man."

 

Greg groaned as he looked up from his drink, ready to hurl an insult at the source of the too familiar voice, "Don't I get enough of you at work?"

 

Sherlock smirked and helped himself to the seat next to Greg at the quiet bar. He ordered a glass of water and quietly waited for it, not touching it when it did arrive. Regardless, he left a tip for the bartender.

 

"Is it customary to mourn over your failed marriage for more than six months? John gets over his sad attempts at relationships in about fifteen minutes. I can't imagine they could be that much different," Sherlock said, shrugging as he tried to see the difference in the situation but not succeeding.

 

Greg downed his drink, cringing at the burn and said, "I don't need to deal with this."

 

"You have a problem, Lestrade, and I've actually found it in my good nature to return the favor you once selflessly bestowed upon me."

 

Greg stood up from the bar, feeling the weight of his liquid meal in his stomach. His head was pounding but he was certain that the beer in his fridge would make it go away. He slapped money on the bar and looked Sherlock in the eyes, "I don't have a problem, mate."

\--------------------

The morgue was too sterile and bright for his tired eyes, "Just show me the body."

 

"Oh, um, ok."

 

Molly Hooper bit her lip nervously at the annoyance in the detective inspector's voice. He had never spoken to her life that. She tried to cast her feelings aside as she forgot about the question she had asked about his kids that he had just deflected. She led him to the body on the cold slab and pulled the sheet off.

 

"The man was poisoned but whatever was given to him shouldn't have been enough to kill him," Molly began to describe the results she had obtained during her autopsy on the body. She pointed out several needle sites and said, "From the tests I ran the man was clearly an alcoholic and whatever they gave him interacted with his changed body chemistry. That's what killed him."

 

Greg closed his eyes and growled, "What are you insinuating?"

 

Molly paled as she looked at the man before her in slight fear. She had never seen Greg so abrasive in the several years they had worked together. She had always taken him for a cheerful man.

 

"I...no. What did I... Did I say..." 

 

Greg rolled his eyes at the stuttering pathologist, "Did Sherlock put you up to this because I don't have a bloody problem."

 

Molly gulped nervously as she shook her head, her long ponytail swinging behind her head. Before she could attempt to say anything, Greg turned on his heel and stomped away.  
\------------------  
Christmas Eve started with the wine someone at the office had given him before he headed home the night before. His wife... Ex-wife had called him shortly after his first glass with words of peace and reconciliation.

 

"Gym teacher not good enough for you?" Greg grunted with satisfaction. He always knew she'd come crawling back to him. The rest of his words weren't so kind and she hung up before they could come to an agreement. 

 

Greg attempted to be cheerful when he bumped into Molly at the door of 221B. He opened it for her and watched smugly as she walked up the stairs in front of him, catching a glimpse of her garter under the short dress and jacket. He was further impressed when said jacket was removed and he found himself craving skin for the first time since his wife. It had been ten months.

 

Continuing in his attempt to be positive, he made a remark about working things out with his wife but even Sherlock could see how improbable that was. He voiced his thoughts but it was of no shock or surprise to him.

 

When drinks were offered, Greg could hardly resist and ignored the knowing look he received from the consulting detective. He downed the drink after Sherlock so predictably insulted the pathologist and despite an apology, left her to gather her things and head from the flat silently. His feet worked on their own accord as he followed behind her.

 

They shared a cab to his flat and he fought the distraction of his thirst as he rummaged through his nightstand for the condom. He waited until she had fallen asleep to slip away from her needy arms and quenched his parched throat with a flat beer and the last swigs of his morning bottle of wine.  
\------------------

The stakeout lasted longer than anyone could have imagined. It had been two days and Greg was sweating despite the winter air and his stomach turned at every sight or thought of food. They were in a crumbling hotel waiting for a glimpse of a suspected serial killer. Sherlock had told them to come here.

 

"I'm gonna see if that pub next door has food," Anderson said, not feeling satisfied with the takeout they had been delivered earlier. Greg's ears perked, "No, stay here and I'll go."

 

Greg ordered a top shelf vodka to avoid the smell that lingered with the cheaper varieties. He drank as many drinks as he could as he waited for the fish and chips he needed to bring back for Anderson. He reached six drinks when the food came. He was leaving the pub when he spotted the man their were looking for.

 

With shaking hands, Greg fired his gun at the criminal after a short chase. The man had shot at him first and was relieved when Anderson had appeared, hearing the commotion. He successfully handcuffed the man and as Greg approached him, he frowned, "Christ, you've been shot."

 

"So, it looks like it." 

 

Greg didn't feel any pain in his shoulder but he promptly collapsed to the ground, leaving Anderson to call for help and guard their prisoner by himself.  
\------------------

Greg received two months of work off to heal and then another two for suspension. Luckily, both were with pay and he found himself contently camped out on his couch for the first month, using his arm in a sling as an excuse to not get out more.

 

Sherlock appeared one day and to his discontent, so did John and Molly. No amount of cruel words made them leave and he threw a fit when they began to raid his home, pouring anything that contained alcohol down the drain.

 

"That's a bit of overkill, don't you think?" Greg growled at Molly as she emptied the contents of the rubbing alcohol in his first aid kit down the toilet. She couldn't even look him in the eye as she said, "You'd be surprised how desperate people get."

 

The only thing Greg was grateful for was that they weren't forcing him to talk. They simply informed him that they were involving themselves in his affair with drinking and no amount of protesting changed their mind.

 

"I'll take the first watch," John said and sat on the couch and looked at the silver haired man expectantly. With a growl of annoyance, Greg stormed into his room and locked the door.  
\----------------------

"Mrs. Hudson made dinner for you. She makes more of an effort for you than she does for me," Sherlock said with slight offense when he entered Greg's flat. His landlady had caught him when leaving 221B and sent him off with Tupperware containing a warm meal.

 

Greg refused to speak to Sherlock though he accepted the food and ate it with the ferocity of a starving man. It had been two weeks and his appetite had hit him with a vengeance. It left him feeling ill afterwards as his stomach adjusted to processing solid food again.

 

The two men sat in silence through the night. It was past midnight when Sherlock looked to Greg, "I'm sorry we let it get this far, Greg." The name sounded foreign on his tongue and Greg was surprised he had gotten it right.

 

"You risked a lot to pull me out of my own hell and I hated you for it until I could finally see reason," Sherlock confessed. Greg's dark eyes met his light ones as the detective continued, "I want you to know I'm not helping you because I owe you. I'm helping you because you're my friend and I don't have many to begin with. I'd rather not lose them."

 

"I thought John was your only friend," Greg croaked out, his throat raspy from lack of use. He was met with a smirk, "I thought so, too. It's a funny thing, this sentiment thing."

 

Greg fell asleep on the couch and woke up in the morning to the smell of breakfast and Molly Hooper's perfume. He couldn't help but smile for the first time in a long time.  
\------------------  
"Welcome back to the land of the living!" Sally exclaimed when Greg strolled in on his first day of work. The four month exile was finally over and he was glad to be back. He didn't even protest when Sally sniffed his water and took a sip. She winked at him when seeing it was only what it was supposed to be.

 

There was a stack of paperwork waiting for him when he got to his desk. He was stuck on desk duty until his disciplinary order was cleared but he didn't mind. He chatted happily again amongst coworkers but excused himself as they talked about weekend plans for the pub. He felt his hands shake slightly and brow begin to perspire. 

 

Sherlock and John were not answering their phones so he texted Molly, begging her to meet him after work. He needed to make sure he got home without making a detour. He simply didn't trust himself and felt relief when he left work to see Molly waiting for him on the sidewalk with an kind smile and open arms.

 

Instead of going straight home, Molly treated him to dinner at the diner near his flat. She did most of the talking but he found himself laughing often. When they left the diner, Greg held her hand and she didn't pull it away. He was happy when she kissed his cheek in his doorway. Things were starting to look up for him. 

 

Sherlock fell two weeks later.  
\--------------------  
Work became Greg's new release. It made it easier to live, though Sally called it barely living. It was the only way he could survive seeing Molly as he caught glimpses as she kissed her fiancé at the door of the morgue as they parted from their lunch dates. It made it easier to solve even some of the hardest cases without the consulting detective, as he had little distraction in his way. He hadn't heard a word about John except from Stamford at the morgue one day about a new woman in his life named Mary.

 

Greg couldn't be bothered to date. He tried a few times with a few new women in the office who offered nothing to spark life in him except for an hour in the bedroom. They easily threw themselves into his sheets though he expected they hoped to gain something at work for it. He found it easier to just coast through life and pretend to enjoy the few hours a month with his children who barely recognized him anymore. They were happily calling another man 'dad' and he couldn't give a damn anymore.

 

"Need you to sign these reports, boss," Sally said, her voice vaguely hitting his ears. He was looking out the window and wondering if Sherlock felt any pain when he hit the ground. He wondered if he himself could do it. His office was high enough.

 

"I need a smoke," Greg announced and went to the parking garage. He preferred to smoke there as it was away from his colleagues and he could pace without question. He had started the habit despite years of patches and gum in an attempt to keep his wife happy. In reality, he couldn't give a damn about the smoking. What he really wanted was a drink. He told himself he could handle just one but a deeper voice told him he couldn't, so he didn't.  
\-------------------

"You bastard."

 

Sherlock Holmes was very much alive and he realized that he owed Anderson an apology. He didn't care immediately as he hugged the man tightly, noting he was much personable than he remembered. He tried to convince Sherlock to get a coffee but the detective shook his head, took the unlit cigarette he was about to light from him, and called out, "Don't let the cat out of the bag. I have something extra special saved up for John."

 

Greg found himself pulled from the darkness as literally and figuratively as he walked out of the parking garage and onto the street. Sherlock was already gone and he wondered if he had just hallucinated the entire thing. He considered he was going crazy as Anderson had but the last cigarette in his pack was gone and he knew he hadn't smoked it.

 

His coworkers watched him walk into his office with a cheerful spring in his step. No one said anything as he swiped his empty mug off his desk and went to the break room for a cup of coffee. The smile he didn't know he had on his face grew as he saw Molly Hooper standing in the break-room, talking to one of his detectives. She was wearing an oversized coat and a long, striped scarf that looked to be twice the height of her, if not more. In her arm she hugged a bundle of files and a cup of coffee in her free one.

 

"Oh, Greg," Molly said, slightly startled at his appearance but genuinely happy to see him. Greg noted she seemed perkier than usually and he suspected she had been visited as well.

 

Greg smiled and poured his coffee, "What can I do you for, Molls?"

 

The detective excused herself as Molly smiled as well, "I have those files that you asked me to pull up. It was a slow day at the morgue so I thought I'd get a bit of fresh air and bring them myself."

 

Greg sipped the hot coffee and looked her over, wishing he could remember the night more clearly when he had taken her home. Had he been in his right mind he would have snagged her and never let her go. Instead she wore the simple engagement ring given to her by some man he had only caught glimpses of and didn't know.

 

"That's kind of you, Molly. Why don't you bring them to my office," Greg instructed and walked away without a backwards glance. He could hear her quick footsteps following him and then closed the door to his office once they were both inside.

 

Before Greg could say a word, Molly grinned with enormous delight, "He came to me, too!"

 

Luckily, Greg had put the coffee on his desk already as he was sure he would have dropped it. He stared at her in shock, "How'd you know?"

 

"You're happier than I've seen you in ages and I know you're not dating anyone."

 

A deep red burned in his cheeks, "I'm not... But... How do you know I'm not dating?"

 

Molly's happy smile turned into a sad one. She placed the files on Greg's desk and walked around it. He watched her intently as she reached out to him and placed a small hand on his cheek. He looked down into her warm eyes as he thumb grazed along the stubble, "I can just tell."

 

The tiny pathologist stood on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his tan cheek and left his office without another word. He knew she didn't mean to do it but his happy mood came crashing down as fast as it came.  
\----------------  
Greg finally met Molly's fiancé and he wanted to punch him in the face. He was perfectly nice and polite but he looked nearly identical to Sherlock and everyone noticed it except her. He felt stupid for harboring any feelings for as she clearly, despite anything she said, only wanted the consulting detective, not the detective inspector.

 

Two days later, after the weekend had ended, Greg called in sick to work. He sat in his dressing gown with a case of beer and watched crap telly until his eyes burned. Each crack of the bottle led to a silent and empty promise that it was the last one. The cycle continued until he couldn't see or feel a thing.

 

The raw feeling in his throat was what woke him up and when he did, he saw he was on a hospital bed with Molly sleeping soundly in the corner of the room. Her eyelids looked red and swollen and he figured she had been crying. He didn't think he was worth crying over.

 

Several minutes passed before a nurse passed the room and saw his open eyes. She came in and checked on him. "Had to have your stomach pumped with everything you drank," she explained and Greg blushed in embarrassment as he felt as stupid as a uni kid.

 

Molly stirred as the nurse recorded his vitals and spoke to him. She stretched and yawned, waiting for the nurse to leave before approaching Greg, "You gave me quite the fright when I checked on you."

 

"What..." Greg said before his throat clamped tight and he coughed hoarsely. Molly frowned, "It's ok, don't try to talk. You'll have quite a sore throat for a few days."

 

There was a few moments of silence and Greg felt Molly's hands take his right one. He looked down and saw the barely there tan line from her engagement ring. She knew he saw it, "I called it off. Seemed like the right thing to do."

 

Greg followed Molly's advice and said nothing. She stayed for only a few minutes longer before kissing his cheek and going downstairs to work. She was wearing her clothes from the day before or was it two days? Greg couldn't tell but he remembered what she was wearing and that was enough for him to hate himself even more.  
\--------------------  
Life was almost back to normal as Sherlock returned to his regular games and mischief that he was up to before his fall. John was getting ready for his wedding and despite Molly's worries, which she had even shared with Greg about, Sherlock was the best man.

 

Molly and her fiancé reconciled and any hope he had of taking her home that evening had vanished from his head as she seized every opportunity to kiss him with her thin lips. Everyone was to preoccupied to watch Greg as he took beer and wine at every opportunity it was offered to him. When they finally sat down to eat, he was seated next to Molly and she only glanced at him during Sherlock's speech to share her feelings of pity and embarrassment for the words that came out of his mouth that more often than not left the guests offended, horrified, or just plain shocked.

 

When it came time for dancing, Greg hit near the back of the room and flagged down a waiter before his drinks were ever empty. Thankfully, the drinks were served in small glasses and the time spent waiting for each new glass was enough to keep Greg drunk but not enough to keep him from going over the top.

 

On his way back from the bathroom, Greg realized he had left his drink on the counter but decided a new drink was better than going back for the old one. As he tried to find a waiter, he ran rather than bumped into Molly. Pushed had been carrying a glass of soda and it spilled over her tacky, but Greg thought adorable, yellow dress.

 

"Shit, Molls, I'm so sorry!" Greg exclaimed and took the near empty glass from her. She looked down in shock at her dress but said, "No, it's ok. Sherlock already told me it wasn't working for me." Greg couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Ignore the bastard. You look lovely."

 

Molly smiled at him with kind eyes and said, "Thanks. I'm going to try and clean up, can you tell Tom I'm in the bathroom if you see him?"

 

Greg ignored the request, "Let me help you out, it was my fault."

 

The short pathologist tried to turn down his offer but he followed her anyways. She slipped into the bathroom and he followed, closing the door behind them and locking it. 

 

"I don't think it'll stain..." Molly said as she reached for the paper towels. Greg leaned against the bathroom door and watched her as she wet them and dabbed at her dress. He felt the small bathroom get warm and sucked a deep breath in. Molly glanced at him, "Are you ok?"

 

Greg nodded, not able to take his eyes off her. She continued to watch him from the corner of her eye as she slowed her hands and then eventually threw the paper towels in the sink. The man watched her intently as she turned to look at him, "What's going on, Greg?" 

 

No answer came from Greg as he felt frozen to his spot against the door. He just gave her the best look of confusion that he could but it was obvious there was no fooling the woman who could catch the tiniest details on a body that were the biggest of clues.

 

"You've been drinking. I can smell it on you." Molly said as she stepped toward him. He frowned with guilt and didn't try to deny it. She sighed, "I worry about you so much, Greg."

 

It felt like he was being stalked by a lioness the way she slowly approached him and he almost cried out when her hand reached out and touched his cheek. His heart was racing and skin was on fire and the only way he felt like he could stop from going mad was to become the hunter. He pushed himself off the door and lowered his head to crush his lips across the shorter woman's and he felt him get pushed right back by her surprising strength though her lips stayed fastened to his.

 

To his enjoyment, her tongue parted his lips and he responded by allowing it as well as wrapping his hands around the hem of she skirt and pulling it up. He moaned loudly, not giving a damn if anyone could hear him as he felt Molly's nimble fingers on his belt.

 

There was a padded chair in the corner of the bathroom and they pushed the elegant pillows decorating it onto the floor. Greg pulled Molly onto his lap and they muffled each other's moans and screams with their mouths. Her lips had just latched onto a tender spot below his ear when Greg cried, "I love you, Molly Hooper!"

 

Hands began to claw and push at his chest and their animalistic movement stopped as Molly stumbled off and away from him. She looked at him in horror while he quickly tried to tuck himself away, quickly realizing the moment was over.

 

"Oh my god," Molly mumbled as tears began to well in her eyes. He felt like the biggest arse in the world as she covered her mouth as if to stop herself from being sick.

 

"I... can't. I'm sorry."

 

And just like most good things that happened in Greg's life, it was over as quickly as it started.  
\--------------  
Sherlock deduced what had happened but had the halfhearted decency to keep his mouth shut about it until he had Greg alone one night after a crime scene consultation. He had identified the killer in minutes and then asked the detective inspector out for coffee, which he found to be out of character. Regardless, he accepted the offer.

 

"I'm aware of what occurred between you and Molly Hooper at John's wedding."

 

"Of course you are," Greg growled as he watched Sherlock pour an abnormally large quantity of sugar into his coffee. Sherlock didn't give him a look of judgement or other obnoxious expression that would possibly make Greg want to hit him.

 

Sherlock stirred his coffee briefly and took a sip of it, cringing and then adding even more sugar. He looked at Greg with a rather soft expression, "I'm concerned about you both, no matter how hard you might find that plausible."

 

"She's engaged, Sherlock. End of story," Greg reminded him as he took a sip of his coffee.

 

"Was."

 

"What?"

 

"Was engaged, Detective Inspector," Sherlock said firmly, "No doubt that you are strongly responsible for it but I imagined it was something you might to know in case you try to pursue further endeavors with her."

 

Greg scoffed, "She wants nothing to do with me. She pushed me away."

 

Sherlock shrugged, "Possibly she realized your incompetency as an investigator or perhaps you simply lack an understanding into the inner workings of our favorite pathologist's mind."

 

"What are you getting at?" 

 

"Molly has a very strong conscience. The burden of a sexual encounter with you while still romantically linked to _Tom_ would be too much for her fragile disposition," Sherlock explained, uttering the other man's name with disgust. Greg was surprised Sherlock had insight on the problem but he also didn't know Sherlock had done internet searches to determine his best method for approaching the situation. He, after all, wanted to see his friends happy. 

 

Sherlock finally sighed with annoyance, "Give it time, Lestrade. Clean up your act and I ensure you that Miss Hooper will be more than willing to accept your advances. Perhaps, this time you don't have to wait until after I've found some way to hurt her feelings."  
\---------------  
Greg followed Sherlock's advice. It was over a year since Greg had had a drink. He spent his free time working out and putting more time into building a relationship with his kids. To his surprise, he was on friendly terms with the ex-wife and even the gym teacher. 

 

There were still temptations all around him and his chest ached whenever he went to the morgue and watched Molly avoid his stare. It had been too long since he had a chance to look at her eyes but he persevered.

 

When the holidays finally came around, Greg begrudgingly accepted the invitation to the Watsons' house for dinner for lack of other plans. John had told him with a wink that there would be plenty of soda and true to his word, not a drop of alcohol was present.

 

There were six settings at the table but only five people present. No one mentioned the missing guest but Greg knew exactly who it was. He sat next to the empty seat anyways. He smiled and joined in on the conversations and laughs. He blushed when Mary and Mrs. Hudson commented on his physique, he scowled when Sherlock criticized him about a case from a few days earlier, and smiled kindly when John expressed how happy he was to see him. It was a very good dinner.

 

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation over dessert. John quickly got up to open the door and within a few moments they were all greeting a smiling Molly Hooper carrying in a bag of presents. Greg smiled at her knitted Christmas themed jumper dress that had a big kitten wearing a Santa hat on it. It was better than her short black dress.

 

Molly indulged on dessert, sitting in the seat next to Greg. He smiled when she looked at him and to his surprised, she smiled back. He sat contently watching her apologize for being late and then laugh between bites of sweets and delectables spread on the table. 

 

They exchanged presents and Greg was speechless when Molly placed a small box on Greg's lap as he relaxed by the heater on the soft couch in the living room. He felt terrible as he had not expected her to be there and quickly apologized.

 

"It's alright, I much rather give than receive anyways," she said kindly and Greg blushed. He had gotten Italian leather gloves for Sherlock and John, and silk scarves for Mary and Mrs. Hudson as he lacked any better ideas on what to get them but they all thanked him. 

 

Sherlock enthusiastically hugged John and and Mary with a tackle when he opened his gift and saw it was a Medieval dissecting kit. He even squeezed Molly tightly when she presented him with a shrunken head much to everyone's discomfort. Mrs. Hudson gave him a new dressing gown which earned her a kiss on the cheek and a hug as well. Greg felt like an arse but he really didn't want a hug from the consulting detective anyways.

 

"Open your presents!" Mary said to Greg enthusiastically. He gave her a small but polite smile and opened the one from her and her husband. He frowned when he picked up the swimming trunks in the box and held them up, "Oh... You shouldn't have."

 

John smiled, "You'll need those for where you're going."

 

Greg gave the man a confused look and then looked down into the box again to see a card resting in it. It was a regular holiday one and upon reading it, he saw the gift was actually from all the occupants in the room and surprisingly, from Mycroft Holmes as well. He said, "You guys must really hate me."

 

With a grin on his face he threw the trunks at John and said, "Sending me on holiday so you can terrorize London?! Who's gonna clean up the mess while I'm gone!"

 

"We promise to behave but we think if anyone has earned a rest, it's you mate," John said warmly and held his soda up to him. He blushed and watched as the rest did as well. He felt a nudge in his ribs and turned to see Molly beaming at him, "Now my gift!"

 

"The holiday wasn't enough?" Greg couldn't help but tease as he opened what was technically a second gift from her. He smiled at the golden pocket watch and pulled it from the box, letting the chain tangle around his fingers. He popped it open and couldn't help but let his grin grow.

 

_I love you, too, Gregory Lestrade.  
xxx Molly_

 

He rubbed his thumb over the engraving to make sure it was real and then felt Molly's small hand wrap around his arm. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, taking in the moment and making sure he wasn't drunk because he surely felt like he was.

 

"By the way," John chimed, "that holiday is for two people."  
\--------------------------  
Greg watched Molly's chest rise and fall in almost perfect rhythm with the tide right outside their door. Her hair was spread gloriously over both their pillows and if it weren't for the sunlight that was creeping in through the window, sliding slowly down the wall as the sun rose into the new day, he'd watch her sleep forever. 

 

When the sun finally fell onto the sleeping woman, her nose scrunched in annoyance and she slowly opened her eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings startled her and she looked around in panic for a moment before resting on the familiar site of Greg.

 

"I thought it was a dream," Molly said happily as she stretched her legs and arms. He watched her toes curl as they poked out from under the sheet that they had untucked during their first night together in paradise. Greg couldn't help but smile and say, "What makes you think it's not a dream?"

 

Molly reached out and grabbed Greg's hand and pulled him down on top of her. She ran a hand through his short, silver hair, "If this was a dream, you'd be kissing me."

 

Greg chuckled, "That's smooth, Molly."

 

Molly didn't have the chance to respond as Greg lowered his head and pressed his lips against her and moaned as she deepened it quickly. He pulled back after a few moments to push away the sheet that was still beneath them and pressed his body against her's again.

 

Greg could forgo any addiction or vice in the world if he could hear Molly moaning into his ear for the rest of his life. He thanked a higher power for the chance to experience this again and to actually be barely deserving of it as he had not been at all before.

 

They collapsed in a tangle of limbs as they panted heavily from exertion and pleasure. Her head rested on his shoulder and his arms snuck their way around her to hold her across his skin damp with sweat. He nuzzled into her soft hair and said, "I would give anything to have you like this every day for the rest of my life."

 

"You wouldn't have to give anything at all," Molly said in return and looked him boldly in the eye. The intensity burned deep her dark eyes and kissed her firmly, "It's time you stopped giving and started receiving, Molly." He muttered the words over her lips and she sneaked her hands up to hold his face as she kissed harder.

 

Greg rolled over so he was on top of her again and ran his hand down her body, placing the other in her hair. He broke the kiss, "I'm serious, Molly. I'd give you anything you want if you'd have me."

 

Molly draped her arms over Greg's shoulders and pulled him down so she could kiss him again and said, "All I want is you. I don't need anything else."

 

"You have me."

 

They never left their room that day to enjoy the warm water and the sun on their skin. They only enjoyed the feel of each other mixed with words of love and moans of passion. Each kiss tasted better than any drop of wine that had ever touched his lips and he knew that he would never want to taste anything except for her again.


End file.
